How Not to Impress a Winchester
by No pen names left
Summary: AU.  Dean and Sam find themselves hunting something wicked and she's just getting in the way.  Yes, there is an oc.  It's good, give it a chance.  I am adding another chapter because of recent intrest in the story.
1. Chapter 1

How Not to Impress a Winchester

Some days you wake up and just know it is going to be a great day. The sun will be shining no matter what the weather man says.

Some days you wake up and know that the day will be horrible and your best defense is to just pull the covers up over your head and pretend morning never happened.

And some days you wake up tied to a chair in the middle of an empty warehouse. Its days like this you really don't expect.

The first thing you notice when waking up tied to a chair is how much your arms and shoulders hurt. It's this tingle, no worse, it's the older, monster brother of all legs that have ever fallen asleep. Then you have your first "Oh, shit" moment. Your heart races, your brain fills with static, lungs gasp for air. Panic just doesn't cover it.

"Stay calm," I told myself. By the way, that doesn't really help.

I caught a movement from the corner of my eye but before I could get a good look, my face was splashed with a cold liquid. Thoughts of acid and my impending death filled my brain as I sputtered.

"Holy water doesn't have any effect on her," observed a voice to my left, "It's not a demon".

"Could be a shifter," replied a second deep voice.

"I'm not a demon or a shifter," I gasped. Great, I had been kidnapped by mental health escapees. "My names is Helen, I'm just a person."

"Try the silver," psycho number one said.

A tall, dark, and crazy man stepped fully into my view. He held a long, sharp knife in his hand. I read a lot of sci-fi so my brain was full of helpful adjectives such as blade, short sword, dagger, and "Oh, God, I'm going to die".

I thrashed backwards in my chair to no avail. He reached out and ran the blade across my forearm. The edge was so sharp that I didn't feel the cut until after the blood started to flow. Then it hurt like hell.

"Are you insane?" I squeaked. Witty repartee is apparently not my strong suit when tied up.

"Not a shifter."

"Maybe a witch? God, I hate witches!"

"How about not a shifter, not a demon, and not a witch!" My voice went shrill and high with fear. My two captors stood behind me mumbling about witches. I could hear the pages of a book being flipped.

"Burning kills witches. We need to make sure we have this right. We don't want to gank the wrong person."

"You've defiantly got the wrong person, "I added. "And FYI, burning kills normal, non-witch people too!" But the psycho twins paid me no mind.

"We need to check with Bobby before we go any farther with this. Maybe he's found something," said the taller man.

"We need to put an end to this killing spree before the civilians get their panties in a wad," added the shorter man as they walked out of the room.

I twisted back and forth, desperately trying to loosen the ropes that bound me to the chair. No luck except that I now had a better view of the work table behind me. The table was dominated by a large, ancient looking book. If you watch scary shows then you know the type. The rest of the table was filled with assorted sharp instruments that I had no desire to see up close. I am a firm believer that intestines should stay safely wrapped up inside your body.

I wish I could say that I reached deep inside myself and bravely forged a plan that would free me from the clutches of these fiends. (Have I mentioned I read possible too much?) But all I could do was gasp. Tears streaking my cheeks as I panted. "Somebody help me, God, somebody help me."

Pitiful, I know.

Between one shaky gasp and the next, the room became arctic cold. I watched my breath condense in front of my face. And then he was standing in front of me. He was obviously dead, ghost dead, horror story and nightmares dead. So I did what any normal girl would do. I screamed!

My towwo psychos came running to my rescue. Ghost boy sent them flying into the far wall with a glance and a slightly raised eyebrow.

"What the hell," growled the dusky blonde, "She is a witch."

Had I not been scared out of my gourd, I would have been impressed by the ease in which the ghost pinned the two men. He turned back toward me, did this mirage shimmer and was kneeling at my feet. The movies totally have ghost movement right, but it was even creeper than The Ring.

"What are you doing?" I stammered.

Dead eyes glanced upward, "Helping", her replied.

His hands hovered over the ropes at my ankles, never touching them but the ropes loosened on their own. I could feel the rope on my wrists following suit. With a soft slithering sound, I was free.

I pushed to my feet and backed away from ghost boy until my back hit the table behind me. Gotta think, gotta think, my brain yammered at me.

"Thank you," I managed to get out. Never hurts to be polite to the undead. "Could you help me get out of here?"

A cold nod was reply enough.

"Okay, can you keep those two from following me until I get away?"

Ghost boy shimmered again and reappeared in front of the men. One arm flung out straight into the taller one's chest. He let out a strangled scream as his back arched away from the wall. His partner cussed and struggled helplessly beside him.

"No," I screamed, "Stop! You can't kill them. I just want you to hold them until I get away."

Another shimmer and I was again face to face with ghost boy.

"Okay," I stammered, "you keep them pinned on the wall until I can get away and you won't kill them."

Ghost boy's only reply was a slow nod.

"Wow, you're a real talker." I moved through the room looking for my best way to get as far away from crazy land as I could. There was a beat up, old pick up and a sleek black car parked just outside the warehouse doors.

"Keys," I mumbled, "Where are the keys?"

"Pocket," ghost boy's voice was like the sound of dry leaves on concrete.

I slowly made my way to the far wall. The psychos were still pinned to the wall like giant beetles in a science display. Except pinned insects don't squirm and twist.

I reached into the taller one's pocket, fishing for the keys.

"This is a little kinky when you haven't even had your first date," growled his partner. "Are we having fun yet, Sammy?" I guess witty repartee is blondie's strong suit when pinned to a wall.

No keys in the first pocket. "Damn, Murphy!", I grumbled as I searched the second pocket. Success!

Dashing out to the vehicles, I discovered that the keys belonged to the pickup, a stick shift. Crap! I never learned how to drive a stick. After glancing inside the black car to check for an automatic, I rushed back inside to get the other set of keys.

Ghost boy's dead eyes immediately met mine as I entered the room. The two men were still pinned to the wall, twisting and struggling in ghost boy's invisible grasp. But all motion stopped as soon as they registered my presence. I don't know why I was embarrassed, I shouldn't worry that crazy kidnappers might think I am a total dork. Three pairs of eyes, green, puppy dog brown and dead, stared at me as I crossed the room. "I can't drive stick", I sheepishly confessed. "I need the other keys."

You would have thought that I had just announced my plans to kill all the puppies in the world by the way the shorter man reacted.

"We will find you and kill you witch," he roared, voice rumbling and deep. Up close his features were finer than his partners. His eyes were a dark green, lined by long…..crap…..why am I gazing into my would be "let's tie her to a stake and burn her" guy?

I found the keys in the first pocket and made a hasty retreat to the door. I stopped at the threshold.

"What about you?" I asked ghost boy. "What will happen to you when I leave? You saved me." I paused, searching for words to explain the twist in my gut when I thought about leaving him. There was a yawning emptiness waiting if I didn't do the right thing. "I can't just leave you."

His eyes met mine from across the room, a shimmer later and his eyes met mine from less than two inches away. There was a sadness, an emptiness, and my heart gave a painful half beat in my chest.

"Hold them until I can get safely away. Then I want you to rest, or go in peace, or into the light, or whatever would be the best thing for you being kinda dead and all". Yep, that's me, the ghost whisperer. Color me totally unimpressed with myself but the ache in my chest dissipated.

Ghost boy's mouth turned just the slightest but upward and he nodded. Another shimmer and he was back at the wall with his pinned psycho collection and I was on my way out.

As the black car roared to life, I could hear screams of "I will hunt you down, bitch! One scratch and you will die slow."

I really need to start thinking my plans through because today's brilliant idea sucked.


	2. Gotta Get Some Glasses

Gotta Get Some Glasses

Found on a Post It Note outside the Supernatural set: Dear Sir, I have borrowed the boys. I promise to take good care of them and return them to you when I finish with them. I will even feed Dean pie. Love Pen

The leather cover of the journal had warmed in my hands. I had been flipping through it since I returned to my apartment. Every light was turned on, my largest chair shoved against the door, windows checked and I was curled against my headboard, steak knife in one hand, journal in the other. I'm sure the dust bunnies were shaking in their little bunny boots.

Making up my mind, I reached for the phone. I had found the cell in the glove compartment of the car along with a gun. Curious about my kidnappers, I had explored the rest of the car, looking for clues. The trunk looked normal at first glance until something shiny caught my eye. The bottom lifted up to display a wide range of knives, guns, bottles of Holy Water, and lots of salt. It was the monster hunter's superstore.

Taking a deep breath and reminding myself to stop procrastinating, I dialed the first number on the screen, labeled Dean. On the second ring a familiar deep voice answered, "Where's my car you evil bitch? I swear if you put a scratch on her…"

I cut him off in mid rant. "I think I can help you find what's been taking the children," I rushed, words tripping over each other on their way out. "It's not me; I am not what you are hunting. I was following it when you grabbed me; I think I could find it again."

I counted the seconds of silence with the thudding of my heart. One thud, oh God, two thuds, I am out of my mind, three thuds, do I have a death wish?

Four thuds, "Where are you?"

A green eyed man walks into a bar with a gun in his waistband and death in his eyes. Okay, I don't have a punch line but I bet Dean could come up with one. Ouch! My brain comes up with the weirdest crap. Gotta be the stress.

I watched the aforementioned green eyed man as he walked into the diner. He moved with a confident stride toward my table, eyes never leaving mine. Sliding into the chair across from me, he glared, eyes talking in the leather journal I had clutched in my hands. Silence stretched between us until the waitress took our order; just a beer for green eyes and a large coke and fries for me. Hey, I hadn't eaten and fries are comfort food. If they had my old baby blanket and stuffed lovie on the menu, I would have ordered that.

"Look," I whispered as the waitress left our table. "I'm not what you're hunting; in fact I think we are both after the same thing."

"You're a hunter?" he scoffed, leaning back in his chair, posture radiating disbelief. "This isn't the girl scouts."

"No, I'm not a hunter," I slid the journal across to him, careful to keep out of his immediate reach. "But that thing took someone I know, and I don't think it's finished."

"How are you tracking it?" he asked, taking a large swallow of the beer.

I twirled another fry through the ketchup as I thought of how to respond. Nope, nothing, I had no idea how to explain my new monster sensing ability. Hell, it was happening in my very own brain and I didn't believe it. I shrugged, "Kinda like a Spidy sense", I hedged.

Green eyes brightened, and his lips hinted briefly of a smile before returning to their normal "I am going to kill you slow" burn. "So, you can find where it is hiding?"

My head nodded yes, while my brain screamed NO!

"We'll be in touch," he said, taking out money for his beer and sliding out of the seat. I waited until I was sure the truck was gone before paying for my own food and heading out the door. I took the long way home, backtracking and twisting through parking lots, making sure I wasn't followed home. Somehow humming the theme from Mission Impossible helped.

I pulled into my parking lot, next to the black car about an hour later. I swear the car looked pissed. All black and sulky. I patted it as I walked by. "Don't worry; I'll get you home soon."

I quickly climbed the stair to my apartment and opened the door. I had taken no more than two steps when I heard the cock of a gun, uh make that two guns.

Standing in my living room were my own favorite psycho boys. I slowly raised my hands as Dean closed and locked the door behind me.

Damn, I just didn't see this coming. Maybe I need glasses.


	3. How to Screw Up

AN: This is dedicated to latona78, 3DBABE1999, and brynerose. Without these three, I most likely would have never updated. Thanks for the kick in the pants guys. I am writing this for you….hope you like it.

And I don't own anything except for the red head.

Screwing Up My Day

There are many ways you can screw up a perfectly good day. Passing gas in church during quiet contemplation had been at the top of my list until today. Now I had a competing top five. One: find out you can see ghosts, one of which is your brother's best friend. Two: get kidnapped by two 'we're not psycho, we really hunt monsters for a living' brothers. And three, four and five: steal afore mentioned brothers' shiny black car.

Yep, my day was officially and totally screwed. This is how I found myself back in the spooky field from the night before. At least I wouldn't be knocked out and tied to a chair by Dick and Wad, since they were trailing behind me all menacing and pissy. Jesh! It was just a car and I even filled the tank. Not a scratch or a dent and Dick was acting like I had threatened his first born.

Earlier that night I had found myself face to face with fury incarnate when I returned from the diner. I had spent an hour making sure I wasn't followed only to find them waiting for my at home. Apparently they checked my wallet while I was tied in the chair. Name, address, even my weight was on my driver's license. I guess if these new super crappy ghost powers don't get me killed, I will have to remember things like that in the future.

Opening my front door, I walked right into the sites of their guns. Who needs caffeine when you've got a really big gun shoved in your face. And no! You perv, it was not sexy. "I guess you want me to help you find that thing?" My voice barely quivered and I didn't pee my pants. I was a regular… Okay, I can't think of any, strong, non-freaking out when a gun is pointed to your head, girls right now, but you get the idea. I was tough.

"Where are my keys?", the shorter brother asked. It was more of a growl, deep and threatening. I grabbed the keys from the bowl on the table and he snatched them out of my hand. Steering me to the nearest chair and giving me a not so gentle push, the brothers had me telling them everything I knew in a barrage of questions.

Dean, from this point of referred to as Dick: How did you summon the ghost?

Sweet little harmless me: I don't know.

Sam, from this point know as Wad: How did you control the ghost?

Me: I asked him nicely and said please.

Dick: How did you know the bodies were in the field?

Me: Cause that's where Dennis led me.

Wad: Dennis, the boy that last went missing? You summoned his ghost?

Me: No, he just showed up and I followed him. I didn't know he was a ghost at first and then, before I could really freak out, there you and Dick were, knocking me out and dragging me off the play 'tie me, cut me, and make me bleed'

Dick: It's Dean.

Me: I know, Dick.

I really make friend quickly when I apply myself was my last thought before the ground disappeared from below my feet.

(SPN…..SPN…SPN…..)

Damn, this day could not be more screwed up, I thought to myself as I watched the civilian trample across the field of grass with about as much grace as a blind, drunken buffalo. Added to the noise she made walking was the constant babble rambled under her breath.

"Hey," I yelled. Not like we were sneaking up on anything at this point. "Are you talking to a ghost?"

Helen, from this point know as Hellion, spun and asked, "Do you see a ghost, Dick?"

"It's Dean, and no."

"Then why do you think I would see one, Dick?"

Ready to gank someone, maybe a red head, I turned to Sam. Loads of help there. Puppy dog eyes and his "have patience" stare. "So far we don't have any better leads. This is the fifth child in two months and she is the only clue we have."

I know Sammy is right. I still hate it. Logic sucks.

A muffled squeak drew our attention back to Hellion, who…had vanished. My first inclination was to dust my hands in good riddance and head back to the Impala for a beer but Sammy was already making his gallant way across the field. I could hear her wail of "oh my god, get me out of here" from where I was standing, crushing all my hope of her sudden and timely (for me) death.

By the time I reached them, Sam had rescued Hellion from an uncapped sewer drain hole. I'm sure she didn't appreciate it but I could not help but smile. Covered in slime from her head to her heeled boots, she thrashed and struggled her way out of the hole. Looking at her I could feel my mood lightening for the first time since she had taken my keys.

"It's down there," she sputtered. "Not far from here."

"How do you know?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, it's hard to explain." Hellion looked flustered. Even after all she had been through, I had to respect the way she bypassed fear and went straight to pissed. "It's not like I came with a set of instructions. What make you think I have any idea what the hell I am doing?"

"Try," Sam coaxed with his usual calm. "Talk us through how it feels. Maybe it will help you understand."

Helen, I mean Hellion, sighed. Wiping the sludge off her as best she could as she considered Sam's request. "It's like a taste in the back of my throat, like when you pass a road killed skunk. It tastes like burnt plastic and vomit."

"Nice," I snarked. Then a thought hit me. "Hey, what do I taste like?"

Hellion sent me a death glare. "I don't know. You're human. The only way I could taste you would be to lick you. I'd rather not find out what asshole tastes like."

Sam choked back his laughter as I glared. "Haha, funny stuff. Now let's track this bastard."

Handing the weapons pack to Sam, I lowered myself gingerly into the sewer hold, making sure to land on the edge and not in the muck. "Shit," a whine sounded above me. "I just got out."

"Nope," I grinned. "You just got yourself in deeper."


End file.
